Somewhat Cool

It must be Somewhat Cool.

Sunday, May 28, 2006

Introspection

Yes, it's that time of year. Birds are chirping, my dog is going nuts with all the people around, and kids are causing havoc in school (you know who you are; you've since been apprehended). But springtime, and the possibilities of summer, bring quite an introspective front to student blogs, such as my friends'. And it is now time for mine.

I'm approaching the end of my junior year of high school. At this point, I have nine days until I begin driving on my own. It's been tantalizing. I have a car, I have keys, and I desperately wish to get out of my house, gas prices permitting. But I'm not there yet, and it's maddening. I'm disliking most of my classes more and more by the minute, as well, which is a first. In the past I've never really disliked school in general. But every day I'm in it, I'm getting more and more stir-crazy. You feel like pulling an "I'm outta here," walking out like some hotshot in a movie, but you know that's not possible and not logical.

I'm fortunate to have the friends I have. In moments of frustration and anxiety, when I feel like I'm the only one in the world who feels the way I do, I talk to one of three or four people who provide the solace that I'm probably seeking more than anything. And as I pointed out to one of those people, isn't that the point of journals? Don't journals, especially public ones, attempt to convey emotion and share it with others, showing others how similar we all really are, despite all of our differences? My problem is not that I have trouble communicating with others; it seems I can't get out into the world. Maybe blogging is the answer. Or maybe it's just another way to be reclusive.

I wish I could be creative, or at least moreso than I currently am. I sit in my math class and doodle. I write random scraps of things that in some alternate world could be lyrics to amazing songs, songs that make people sit back and think, and laugh, and cry. I think about scraps of dialogue that in some alternate world could be scenes out of an amazing movie, a movie that will cause people to step out of a theater and feel like their lives have changed forever. I wish I could write well, as well as the authors who I spend so much of my time with, because when I get back papers from my teachers I always feel like I've let Heller or Huxley or Orwell or Kesey or Kerouac or Palahniuk down. I wish I had some inspiration for a song, or a movie, or a novel, or the motivation to do any of this. I wish I could find someone meaningful to spend my time with, to be in love, as it seems to have helped all of my friends, for better or for worse. I wish those girls that I ask out would just tell me "no," just get it over with, so I don't strain and stress over things that ultimately won't work.

There's a lot of things you wish for. I wish for things that are less superficial, but on top of all of that, I wish others won't judge me differently because I wish for such things. But I know at the same time that this wishing rarely helps to improve a situation, and that one must act on things. I'm afraid, though. If girls reject me, how about music companies and film studios and publishing houses?

I'm reaching the end of my junior year of high school, and so far I've been on one outing with a girl. I wouldn't even call it a date. We sat in a diner and talked for an hour. I've asked girls on dates, but they just try to smile nicely and turn me down in the gentlest way possible. Like they'll "hurt my feelings" if they say no to my face. I'm tired of watching all of my friends go out with their girlfriends on weekends, and hang out with them after school and on weekends. They've found a great friendship, something I have yet to experience in any form, and simultaneously make me feel like the third wheel. It doesn't help that one of my best friends thought I'd be in a relationship by the end of the school year. It's like the caffeinated jolt I need to start getting socially active, but it's also like a challenge: "find her now, man." It also makes me feel like crap because he's been in a relationship for a long time (relatively speaking for high school), and is also suddenly well-liked by my peers, so I feel like telling him "you don't know" every once in a while in a snippy way, despite the fact that he's my friend. But to be honest, I think it's the truth. It sucks to be a third wheel. It sucks to sit at home on Saturday nights, or have to tag along with your brother's friends to the movies because your few friends are busy or don't want to hang out with you. My friends tell me that my time will come, but sometimes I wish it would come sooner.

I was watching "Magnolia" the other night, a beautiful, melancholy movie about multiple people who are all deeply connected on a metaphysical level. I know for a fact that life is like this, but like those people in the movie, I am unable to connect with anyone else on a deeper level than general friendship. It's not alienation, and it's not separation. I've got friends, and I've got connections with people, but I have yet to see the greater relationships. They're an elusive Grail, just slightly out of reach but never out of sight. Of course I'll keep fighting, but you never know if you're crossing the Delaware or leading Pickett's Charge.

My english teacher told us one day to try and think: can you pinpoint a turning point in your life so far? The answer out of virtually everybody was "no," and those who could named some event that was trivial, the first time they rode a bike or got braces or wore glasses out in public. Robert Frost told us to take the road less traveled, to explore the unfamiliar. But how do we know when to turn? I don't.

I drive in nine days. It feels like a turning point. But I can't shake the feeling that I'm driving blind at the same time, in a metaphorical sense. I'm desperately looking for road signs, hoping that I won't get lost somewhere along the way. Hopefully I won't.

Maybe my thoughts at the moment are just a manifestation of a newfound burst of maturity. Hopefully, they are.